


Hopes of Sanctuary

by WinterSorceress



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Terrorism, Omnic Racism, Post-Omnic Crisis, Shambali (Overwatch), Zenyatta Appreciation Week 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 12:46:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14057295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterSorceress/pseuds/WinterSorceress
Summary: Zny-114 fled his home city amongst the turbulence following the omnic crisis, but it followed him still. Desperate, he sought the sanctuary that the Shambali offered. Yet, even while enjoying the peace of this omnic temple, he can't help but feel something is off.Written for Zenyatta week 2018, for the prompt Starting Point/History





	Hopes of Sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, this prompt took a few more days than it should’ve had. Yet, this was something I had so much fun writing. I tried to put all the heart and emotion into it as I’ve always imagined for Zenyatta’s backstory. 
> 
> This point in time is just before Zenyatta becomes an actual monk. Right now, he’s more of a refugee, fleeing from the more turbulent areas of Nepal.The Shambali too are just starting out, and Mondatta is still discovering his voice. 
> 
> This piece is about Zenyatta finding his place among the Shambali, and deciding if this is really the path he wants to take. Meanwhile, he finds something of a kinship with Mondatta.
> 
> Zenyatta’s serial number was thought up by my dear friend and fellow Zen and Zen (lack of) lore enthusiast, [Fran](http://lacertae-dreamscape.tumblr.com/), the very organizer of [this event](http://zenyattaappreciationweek.tumblr.com/).

He awoke to a strange, bright world. Experiencing almost instinctive alarm, he jolted upright, the futon's worn blanket falling from his chest. Sunlight poured in from the glass-less window, blinding and warm, illuminating the small, barren room he had been given for the night.

Then he remembered:

He had come to this temple, the Shambali temple, the day prior. It had all felt like a dream, though the emotional and physical weariness from the journey that brought him remained.

He had wanted to come here for weeks, months even, but now that he was here, he was more uncertain than ever. In fact, he had almost left the evening before, unimpressed especially after he had gone through just to reach this supposed sanctuary.

Several of his companions had indeed turned back, returning to the now smoldering remains of Ransal, the humble farming town that had so kindly took them in. He felt a surge of guilt, not being there to assist their surviving human neighbors in rebuilding. Yet, this was where they had promised to escort them from the start. That was, however, before the extremists raided as they slept. The anti-omnic fiends had lit their homes ablaze and shot down those who had attempted to flee, both omnic and human residents alike, a violent protest of their coexistence. It was almost depressing how much could change in a single night, in mere hours, or it would be, but it was just another heartbreak among many, a denial for their wish to live peacefully.

Allowing himself to fully wake, the omnic sat, unmoving, as he listened to the pulse of the temple. As expected of such a place, bells rang out softly in the distance, while chanted prayers drifted on the wind. Even closer, a pair of monks walked the path that crossed in front of his dwelling, chatting among themselves, of matters he didn't care to eavesdrop on.

The rest of the world was waking as well, it seemed, this peculiar, almost alien world.

He supposed he would have to join them eventually. With a synthetic sigh, he ventured to gather his strength and rise from the floor. Several joints clicked, still adjusting to the constant brisk cold that lingered here, so high in the mountains; if he were human, he would probably find the air thinner, but one less problem was not minded. Now that he was on his feet, he began to take more interest in his surroundings and glanced around one last time.

“Oh...” The sight of his own reflection bewildered him briefly, his sky blue arrays flickering faintly in recognition.

It was the first time he had seen his appearance first-hand since he had left Ransal, and he would not deny he looked a mess, his faceplate a dull gray, especially under the smudged dirt and nicks. His clothes weren't much better, though he would have expected as much, after trekking through both fire and harsh wilderness. Both his daura and suruwal were singed and ripped at their ends. Though they weren't much, they were all he had.

Is this what he looked like wandering through the grounds? It was no wonder that Shambali leader had stopped him. However, instead of asking him to leave, like a human might've, the older omnic had kindly inquired about his reason for visiting, before insisting he stay, even if just for the night.

Dejected, he sighed again as he made an attempt to straighten up as much as he could. He didn't really feel comfortable lurking in this condition, but he had to at least give this place a chance. Like his few possessions, it was all he had, a minute chance for a better life, for a future worth living, instead of cowering back on the streets of Laksingdi.

Quietly, he made his way downstairs, overly aware of every sound and move he made, and tentatively wandered out of his temporary dwelling. The Shambali grounds opened up before him, vast yet simple, consisting of multiple rundown buildings, as faded blue as his own. Dirt paths winded their way between them, stretching everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

It was then that he realized that he had no idea which one to take, nor which direction to head. He had been too exhausted and overwhelmed to inquire about anything more than where he was allowed to stay. And he hadn't spoken to anyone more than that one monk.

Rooted to where he stood, he stared down at his feet, fidgeting with uncertainty. He supposed, he would just have to ask around, though that thought alone filled him with anxiety. He didn't want to bother anyone more than he might've already.

He felt so small, alone in this unwelcoming world.

“There you are...”

Bewildered, his head jerked up with a tiny gasp. Accompanied by two other monks, the off-white omnic from the day before made his way towards him, treading down the path from the nearby hill. He stood tall in the morning light, his arms tucked behind his back. The way the sun glinted off his pale metal gave him an almost ethereal aura, though there was something in the way he moved that kept his visage down to earth.

“Oh...” he found himself uttering, a tad stunned. Then he remembered his manners and managed a bow. “Good morning, sir...”

The older omnic chuckled lightly. “Good morning, my friend. Though there is no need for such formalities. I mean...I'm certain it is acceptable enough to refer to me as Brother, Brother Mondatta. Though...I am terribly sorry. How rude of me. What was it that...you said your name was again?”

He jolted, abashed. “I didn't...” he confessed, grasping his shoulder unconsciously, nervously. “I...My serial number is Zny-114.”

“...” Mondatta appeared to hesitate at that, and Zny-114's mind scrambled to make amends. “My apologies. You...don't have a proper name?”

He shook his head, feeling foolish. “...Not yet...” he admitted quietly. “I've been... _wanting_ one, however...like I've been wanting to come here. But nothing has clicked yet.”

Such a confession left his systems burning with a self-imposed shame, though it was difficult to pinpoint the cause. Perhaps it was because he was so new to this, this journey of self-discovery. There was little doubt many of the omnics here already had their own name, their own place, and here he was, Zny-114, adrift in a vast sea of what he could only pray wasn't false possibility. He had already come so far, and yet…

He didn't even notice his optical sensors had fallen to his feet once more, nor how Brother Mondatta was gazing at him with sympathy.

“...Oh, my dear. Don't look so ashamed,” Mondatta at last spoke again, prompting him to lift his gaze. “It's a bold new chapter for many of us, a chapter we must take one step at a time. First…”

The older omnic regarded him strangely, seemingly nonplussed. Then he followed his attention and realized he was staring at his clothes. His self-consciousness returned.

“...I apologize, Brother, for my state. There was… a fire in the village from whence I came. Many of us were forced to flee into the mountains.”

There was a shift in the mood then, even among his escorts, whose optical sensors averted in what could've been interpreted as pity. It was then that Zny-114 knew he didn't need to say anything more. His, after all, had been a reality that so many had longed to escape.

To his surprise, the Shambali leader reached out, taking his hand in his own. “I'm deeply sorry, brother. I promise you are safe here with us, for...as long as you wish to stay, of course, ”he assured gently. “As...I was saying...let's start by getting you some clothes...that are more of in one piece, shall we?”

The gesture bewildered him, but he indeed felt safe. “As long as it won't be too much trouble…”

Mondatta chortled lightly. “My dear, please. It is no trouble at all.”

Array flickering in a hopeful smile, Zny-114 allowed Brother Mondatta to guide the way.

 

* * *

 

To his secret relief, his new clothes were not that much different from the ones he came with. Despite the Shambali’s hospitality, he was reluctant to jump into the fray, though it was, at this point, tempting. Brother Mondatta was by his side more often than not, which he found admittedly odd.

It seemed their group was not as well off as many omnics had dreamed to believe. They too were just starting to find their feet amongst the chaos left by the Omnic Crisis. And while Mondatta had been among the founders, he had not exactly volunteered to lead them nor had he felt qualified.

Even with such responsibility thrust upon him, Brother Mondatta remained determined to stand as a guiding light to those who needed him, even if his synth did crack much more often than he would like.

The temple itself needed just as much work. Just like with Ransal, Zny-114 found himself more than happy to help. Rebuilding together was always something that he could get behind, working for a better tomorrow and improving the lives of those around him. It was just enough to lift the woe in his heart.

Both the Shambali and their guests spent the warmer hours of the day repairing the ancient structure as well as polishing its many bronze statues. Its bridges and surrounding buildings were also in need of work. Though it felt like help was never in short supply, and there was never any complaint.

In the early morning and late evening, Zny-114 and the other visitors gathered to listen to Mondatta’s teachings. There was no set place, and that was what made it so enjoyable, on top of everything else. Sometimes they relaxed in the shadow of the shrine, or relished the view of the surrounding peaks. Despite the peace, however, he eventually realized that something felt..off.

“...Brother Mondatta?” Zny-114 found himself asking one morning while attempting the daily meditation the group often partook in; his stay had stretched out into a pleasant blur of weeks. “...I noticed...that there's never been any human visitors.”

As innocent an observation as it may have been, his was enough, it seemed, to cause ripples in their collective pond. Mondatta stirred, but not just him. Several others did as well, mostly his fellow visitors, those who too had come to taste what the Shambali had to offer. And what that was, for them, was the very thing he was daring to question.

He was just thankful they at least _tried_ not to eavesdrop, though there was no mistaking the unease in their shifting posture.

“Oh...You've noticed, my dear?” Mondatta began after a moment of hesitation. “...I thought you would've known. Humans are forbidden here. Only omnics may join the Shambali and walk these grounds.”

“Oh…” he uttered, a bit taken aback. While, admittedly, he had enjoyed the freedom from the untrusting, and sometimes, sneering eyes of humans, he would've thought… “But...isn't coexistence the very thing you preach to us?”

“Zny…” his teacher began, a certain tension in his synth. He then glanced at his other students, who had become all the more anxious about their conversation. After a moment, he moved to stand. “If you would...we can take a stroll and discuss your...concerns. Let the others focus on meditation.”

“...Alright…” Zny-114 agreed, though he couldn't shake the feeling he had just upset the very peace he was coming to relish. “I'll follow you.”

“Very well…”

It was a stressful walk, as they wandered along the path that winded up the overlooking slope, at least until they were finally out of earshot. All the while Zny-114’s processors ran rampant, thinking on what had been bugging him lately. He had noticed how his gaze was starting to drift down from the mountain and down to the valleys below, sometimes hoping he could catch a glimpse of Ransal. He wondered more and more about how everyone was, everyone who was still alive.

“Listen, Brother Mondatta…” he ventured, with a brief surge of certainty.

Mondatta hummed, though the tension from before remained. “I'm listening, dear.”

And just like that, it threatened to flee, though he held onto it for dear life, believing that what he wanted to say had to be said. “I came here from the village, from the town of Ransal,” Zny-114 began, willing his voice not to waiver. “I lived there with a dozen other omnics, with our human neighbors. We had come from the city, seeking refuge from anti-omnic violence. And we found it there.”

The older omnic, a few steps ahead, nodded but didn't interject; as always, his arms were folded regally behind his back, though there was a graveness now in his stance.

“I've been thinking about them lately, about what could be possible, even beyond here,” he continued, gesturing tentatively. “Like...in Numbani. They told us of that Nigerian city, where omnics and humans agreed to rebuild together, like we had, but on a much larger scale.”

“But this isn't Numbani. Numbani is a rare case, though my heart soars for them,” Mondatta disagreed quietly. “Here, it...it just isn't safe. Not yet.”

Glancing down at the temple below, and its content residents, Zny-114 pulled his mind back briefly, back to those cold, restless, fearful nights in Laksingdi. “With all due respect, Brother Mondatta, I am the _last_ omnic you need to tell,” he declared, surprised by the sharpness in his own voice, though it was not without its source. It stopped the Shambali leader in his tracks, prompting him to face him. “We spent our lives _cowering_ in Laksingdi, the city we fled, away from the humans who looked down on us with disgust and spite, who found sport in keeping us hidden among the landing docks. We left because we were through with hiding, and we feared the day they would stop tolerating us as little as they already did.”

That seemed to be enough to stir something in the pale omnic. “...This is the first time you've brought up your past like this,” he mused thoughtfully. Zny-114 wasn't sure, but he sounded glad for him.

It was true. “I guess I had wanted to leave it behind, but...as I've heard the humans say, there is no future without the past. We must learn from it,” he declared, feeling a tad reminiscent. “I know the fear you have, that the others have. Perhaps...it _is_ too early to allow humans here. _However_ …”

Mondatta's array flickered curiously. “What are you suggesting, my dear?” he inquired with a sincerity. With the manner in which he tilted his head, eager for new ideas, it was easy to remember he was just as small and new in this vast world as he was.

“Well, _we_ could go to _them_ , as well as to the vast number of omnics who want to, who _need_ , to hear your teachings,” he suggested, matter-of-factually in his tone, despite the concept being exceedingly more difficult and dangerous than it sounded. “I don't know about the others, but I'm tired of hiding. And...not just that, Mondatta, but...so many humans, humans _and_ omnics, gave their lives in my village, just for the chance we could one day live in peace. Let them be our inspiration; I can't hide up here with their deaths on my shoulders.”

Curiosity shifted into consideration, as the Shambali leader hummed faintly, deep in his synth. “...” For the longest moment of Zny-114's life, he didn't respond, pausing long enough for him to notice how the sun was already climbing to its peak in the sky, as noon approached. “It's peculiar to me that you put forth so much despite...despite the fact that you have yet to express true intent to become a member of the Shambali.”

Caught off-guard, the younger omnic jolted, bewildered and abashed all at once.

However, Mondatta only continued, seemingly having no ire about the matter. “You have a light inside you, Zny. I felt it the first moment I saw you, despite how you appeared to have lost almost all hope; it burned through even then, in your desire for a sign. That was what you were looking for then...was it not?”

Memories of that first evening flooded back to him, of the sheer exhaustion that had clung to his steel frame and hazy processors, as he numbly observed the temple's statues, less than grand in his cynical eyes. He had strongly considered leaving, just turning back the way he had came, unafraid of not making it home in one piece. Yet, he had delayed even that, and he realized he had done so deliberately, his heart desperately clinging to whatever hope that there could be found . And sure enough...

Overtaken with the reality of that day, Zny-114 could only nod, once, hands drawn to his thrumming chest.

Solemnly, Mondatta averted his optical receptors, gazing down the temple they all called home. “...I hope you've found what you were looking for, my friend, no, my _brother_. The Shambali...we take pride in being a group whose arms are open to those who need them, but...” he trailed off, almost reluctantly, before releasing a sigh. He then returned his focus to the other omnic and him alone. “We need to do more. _I_ need to do more, but it's...a daunting task. The world is still in so many pieces, and anger and hatred are in no short supply.”

Unconsciously, Zny-114 stepped closer, feeling drawn by the pull of solidarity. “You are not in this alone, none of us, my brother. We just need...to discover the courage to realize that, and stand together.”

For a few seconds, the pale omnic regarded him, arrays subdued. “...I suppose you are right, my dear,” he declared after a relieved chuckle. Regaining his state of tranquility among this time of renewed certainty, he straightened, though allowed his arms to hang loosely at his sides. “I will...put your suggestions into great consideration. In the meantime, will you consider becoming a monk here? I truly think it is something you are meant for.”

With a gentle, guiding touch, Mondatta led him back down the path, resting a hand on the small of his back.

Zny-114 too gave a small laugh, feeling his companion's eagerness. “Very well. I'll think about it. It's a major decision, you know,” he promised, feeling a weight lifted between them. “Nonetheless, I'll be here. I believe there's work for me to be done, as well.”

 


End file.
